


lets stop holding back on this and lets get carried away

by seekingsquake



Series: i just want to say that you're mine, you're mine [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Eloping, Fluff without Plot, Friends to Husbands, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 03:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4904650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingsquake/pseuds/seekingsquake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a reason that they aren’t a real couple, but Bruce is having a hard time thinking of it presently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lets stop holding back on this and lets get carried away

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Married by Emily Kinney. The title is taken from Third Eye Blind's cover of Mine, by Beyonce.
> 
> All characters are property of Marvel, I don't own anything.  
> Please do not repost or reupload this piece anywhere without consent. If you ask, I'm sure we can work something out.

These events are tedious at best and actual shitshows at worst. Though the media adores Tony in a backhanded kind of way (they adore reporting on Tony, but they still have a lot to say about Iron Man and SI and Tony as a person, most of it not quite wonderful), actual people like Tony at about a forty sixty ratio. Bruce will never understand the politics of rich people. “It’s for appearances, for monetary donations,” Tony says, but Bruce doesn’t know why they can’t just send a cheque, doesn’t know why people who hate Tony invite him to parties and galas full of people who also hate Tony, and he doesn’t know why Tony goes, knowing what he knows.

He sort of understands why Tony brings him along though. No one is ever going to side eye a normal human man nearly as much as long as the smaller half of the Hulk is in the room. And Bruce, though he hates everything about this situation, always goes when Tony invites him because Tony is actually a sensitive little flower who hates when people hate him, and when Bruce gets a particularly nasty look from somewhere he just imagines Brazil and tells himself that _this could be way worse, at least these people don’t have guns_. Security has guns, and they watch him suspiciously, but that’s their job so Bruce can let that go.

The point is, Bruce isn’t going to leave Tony adrift in this rich, old money, innovative business wasteland.

Tonight the event is held in somebody’s loft apartment, and the whole thing is set up like some sort of art gallery. There are statues placed throughout the space, and paintings lining the white walls, and red, low backed couches are arranged sporadically. There’s a table off to one side that has a spread of very expensive finger foods that everyone is eating with tiny forks, and the centerpiece is some sort of free standing fountain. Bruce was looking at it earlier but can’t find the plug-in that powers it.

Tony is off somewhere, doing his time (Bruce doesn’t know why they say that, that Tony’s doing his time, this isn’t prison-- probably-- this is just a party) and Bruce is sitting on one of the couches, appearing much more casually than he feels. He can hear Tony laughing too loudly, but it’s too much of a controlled sound to be genuine, and he wishes he had something to chew on that didn’t make him feel nauseous when he thought about the cost per portion.

Tony might actually be some sort of psychic, because whenever Bruce thinks about food, he appears.

He moves through the crowd like a natural but almost bumps into a statue of a naked man, and that’s how Bruce can tell that he’s a little drunk. Tony’s mostly given up drinking, but he can’t make it through these things without a little alcohol in his blood and Bruce can’t blame him for that. He almost bumps into the statue but he catches himself, and then he makes his way across the rest of the room and sits beside Bruce on the couch. He opens the jacket of his tux and reaches into a hidden pocket, and when he withdraws his hand again his palm is cradling a small handful of jelly beans.

“A jelly bean for my Jelly Bean?”

Bruce smirks and grabs a couple from Tony’s hand, popping them into his mouth and chewing. The candy sticks to his teeth in a way that annoyed him when he was younger, but he likes the sticky feeling now. He doesn’t often eat food that sticks to his ribs, but anything that he has to pick from his teeth leaves him feeling probably a little too satisfied. Tony pops the rest of the handful in his mouth and sucks on them, and one of his arms drapes across the couch behind Bruce’s back.

“Nobody likes us here,” Bruce murmurs as he watches the room. “I haven’t seen one person who is actually nice to you in a more casual setting.”

“Not lookin’ hard enough,” Tony tells him, and there’s some sort of smug amusement in his voice. “Red’s around here somewhere. I saw her earlier, chatting up one of the guys from Oscorp.”

Bruce chuckles. “Natasha doesn’t like us either.”

Tony nudges Bruce gently, scoots a little closer to him before saying, “Nah, she likes us fine. She pretends not to because Black Widows aren’t supposed to have hearts, they’re supposed to eat their husbands.” He hands Bruce another couple jelly beans before adding, almost as a second thought, “We’re not supposed to sit on the furniture though.”

“No?”

“Nope. We’re gonna get kicked out if we stay here any longer. No one wanted to tell you because they didn’t want you to crush them.”

Bruce can’t help but laugh, and he earns Tony’s first real smile since they left the Tower. “Guess we better move, than.” He stands and pulls Tony up with him, and together they head for the balcony. They’re out of public view for less than a moment before Tony has Bruce posted up against the handrail, pinned between the wrought iron bars and his hips. The first kiss is hard, is a pay attention to me type thing, and the second is more of a gentle hello. Tony tastes like champagne and candy, and his hands are in Bruce’s hair, and it’s only an automatic reaction to kiss back and rub his fingers into the lapels of Tony’s jacket.

They spend a few more moments out there, kissing behind a decorative tree. There’s a breeze and the moon is bright and high in the sky above them, but it’s still warm for this time of year. Bruce doesn’t drink at all, but he remembers getting drunk in university and he thinks maybe kissing Tony is the same sort of thing.

There’s a reason that they aren’t a real couple, but Bruce is having a hard time thinking of it presently.

The door to the balcony creaks open and Tony steps away quickly but so casually, so practised. He leans against the rail looking out into the city, and Bruce stays posted facing towards the building, and they look like two friends who needed a breath of air and maybe a cigarette. They both relax more into themselves when that realize that it’s just Natasha, and then Tony squeezes his shoulder before heading back inside. Nat takes his place, and the door clicks closed, and Bruce just keeps standing there.

“You’ve got that face on,” she says to him conversationally.

“What face?”

“That choked, constipated sort of face. The face you put on when you and Tony first met.” Natasha is very good at neutral, but she’s not neutral now. Her eyes are gleaming.

Bruce sighs. “Don’t say it.”

She says it anyway. “He would date you.”

“I know.”

“So?”

It’s more complicated that Natasha makes it sound. It’s more complicated than it has any right being. He looks at her and he’s not sure there’s anything he could say that would make her understand. “Do you ever feel like you could love someone, but you’d love them so much that it’d crack you right open?”

She looks at him, studies him, and doesn’t say anything. He wonders who she’s thinking of, if she’s thinking of anyone at all. He wonders how long he could survive loving Tony before breaking everything apart. Finally she answers. “I thought that was the only way to love someone.”

The admission surprises him. Natasha isn’t an open person, or hasn’t been. After everything that’s happened over the last few years, though, maybe she’s not as closed off as Bruce tends to think that she is. He wonders who she had loved so hard she broke for. He imagines that many men broke under their love for her. “I can’t afford that,” he murmurs. “Not anymore.”

A breath leaves her, and it almost sounds amused. She says, “We were all made to be broken. We wouldn’t get our hearts hurt if we weren’t supposed to feel it.”

“It’s not safe,” he insists, and she makes that sound again.

“Nothing ever is,” and her hand brushes over his shoulder and squeezes in an imitation of Tony from earlier. “Safety isn’t real, Bruce. You of all people should understand that. It’s all about picking how you want to go down. And I’ve noticed that people usually go down more peacefully when they don’t go alone.” And she’s gone before he can come up with anything to say back to her.

It’s weird to think about, the Hulk and Black Widow having the closest thing to ‘girl talk’ that two terrifying creatures like them can have in formal wear on a balcony in the middle of the night. That even though the words never left her mouth, the woman who might be the most dangerous lady on earth pretty much told him to go get his man. He thinks about the flash of Tony’s teeth, the flutter of his hands, the way his tongue licks at his lips when he’s thinking about unsavory things, and he thinks of those romance novels that Betty used to read when she got tired of sciencing.

These parties are a lot like his first couple years at Harvard had been. He remembers being gay and alone and stared at because he couldn’t hide it, and he remembers befriending Betty Ross accidentally. She always used to tell them, “You don’t know them, let them stare. It doesn’t matter,” and he supposes that it all still applies now. If Tony were his, he’d’ve kissed him on that couch and met the eyes of everyone else in that room defiantly.

But Tony isn’t his.

Not in any of the ways that would make it real.

By the time he goes back inside, Tony is a little drunker and Natasha is nowhere to be seen. He wants more jelly beans and he wants to go home, but he just hovers by the snack table and watches the room because he’s never gotten used to asking for the things he wants and Tony’s moved on from champagne to red wine. Watching Tony drink wine makes him laugh, because Tony hates it so much his face twitches even though present company won’t allow him to show his distaste. He’s never really liked drinks that are more for sipping than for swallowing, but it wouldn’t be good press for him to get trashed at a charity benefit. Between Pepper and Steve, the whole idea of good press is finally starting to get through to him.

Tony excuses himself from his conversation and makes his way to Bruce, then snags the smaller man by the elbow and heads for the elevator. “We’re leaving,” he murmurs into Bruce’s ear, a little too closely to be appropriate, but Bruce can’t bring himself to pull away. “I’m low on candy and that’s more important to me right now.”

“How did you justify us ducking out so soon?” Bruce asks, amused.

“I came up with a lie. I’ve already forgotten what it was. I’m fucked if they decided to quiz me tomorrow.”

Laughter is something that has taken Bruce a while to get used to. A few years back, after Brazil and before Harlem, he was having dinner with Betty or Leonard, and someone said something, and he laughed. And then because it was the first time he had laughed in maybe years, he started to cry and ruin everything. Even now, his laughter isn’t as common as his snorts or scoffs or amused facial contortions. His laughter is something that can only really be coaxed out by Tony, and if he stopped to think about it, he would discover that maybe half the team has never even heard what it sounds like. But he doesn’t stop to think. He lets Tony lead him into an elevator, and he laughs, and when the door slides closed behind them he kisses Tony so sweet and soft that everything else pretty much ceases to exist.

A little voice in Bruce’s head tells him _Tony’s not yours_ but there’s another voice there too, a voice that’s tired of never getting what it wants, that says _but he could be_ with so much conviction that another thought forms, completely separate of the voices.

_I would marry this man tonight it he’d let me._

Something must show on his face, because when Tony pulls away from the kiss the first thing he says is, “What?”

“I-- nothing. Nothing, let’s get out of here.”

Bruce drives, but Tony isn’t ready to go home yet. “Just drive,” he says as he slumps into the passenger seat. “Get on the highway or something and just drive. Let’s go on an adventure.”

It’s hard to deny Tony anything, so Bruce just drives around, takes them upstate to stretches of road that they can speed down, and Tony retracts the car’s soft top and throws his tie out into the wind as they go. They stop at a 24 hour diner in the middle of nowhere, and Tony gets a cheeseburger and Bruce gets a banana split, and they’re dressed in tuxes that are disheveled and windblown. Bruce can’t help but feel like he’s just come from prom, or like maybe they eloped. Maybe they should elope. Maybe fighting this is not actually helping at all.

“Let’s get married.”

It takes Bruce a second to work out that he didn’t actually say that out loud. Tony did. Maybe he’s psychic about more than just food. “What?”

“I said,” Tony says as he polishes off the last of his burger and then starts in on helping Bruce with his ice cream, “let’s get married. Neither of us like to do anything by halves, and we’re already crazy about each other. We already live together. In Canada, we’re already common law I think. Let’s just skip dating and get right to married. We’re already dressed for the occasion!”

Tony... is serious. And not as drunk as he was before. As he was pretending to be before? Tony is serious, and Bruce can tell by the way that he’s playing with his cufflinks and the way he smiles at the waitress that Tony’s actually sober, too.

Bruce should say no. It’s crazy. It's leaping before you look crazy, testing a serum on yourself out of desperation crazy, building a flying suit of armour to fight terrorists crazy, dealing with aliens on a semi-regular basis crazy. But because it is what it is, and he is who he is, because maybe every decision he’s ever made was leading him to this night, to this moment, Bruce says yes. He doesn’t actually say yes. What he says is, “Where are we going to find someone to marry us? It’s already almost two in the morning,” but what he means is yes.

Tony laughs. “Hello? I’m Tony Stark? I own a private jet? Vegas. We don’t even have to go to a crazy Elvis chapel. We can just go to a place that gives out the licenses and has ministers on shift. Super low key. No one will know. It’ll be awesome. And then I can get us a honeymoon suite somewhere crazy expensive and we can send everyone a video with the news from bed!”

Bruce has a flashback to Harvard, to trying to get dressed for a date and freaking out and Betty, right there beside him, rubbing his back and saying, “Bruce, stop. Deep breath. Just do you. Do what feels good. Don’t worry so much, god, you’re going to make us both go prematurely grey,” and Bruce knows.

He was never going to have a normal life.

He leans across the table, pulls Tony closer by the collar of his shirt, and kisses him dead on the mouth in front of everyone. ‘Everyone’ is only the waitress and the cook, who is peering out at them from the pass through into the kitchen, but still. Anyone could walk in. And then he says, “I’m in. Let’s do it,” and it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else but it feels like everything is slotting into place.

Tony leaves a hundred dollar bill on the table and drags Bruce out of the restaurant, pulling out his phone and probably waking up his pilot. Then he turns to Bruce and says, one hundred percent serious and suddenly a little shy, “I’m not going to disappoint you, Banner.”

Funny thing is, Bruce already knows. So instead of dignifying that with any sort of response, he slings his arm around Tony’s shoulder, lets his face rest in the crook of Tony’s neck, and asks, “Do you have any more jelly beans?”

Turns out, he does. Only two, but they’re both green, and Bruce thinks that maybe that should mean something. He pops them both into his mouth, kisses his-- _Jesus_ \-- he kisses his fiance, and he laughs. He’s not sure this is what Natasha had in mind when she urged him to go for it. Although, with how good she is at reading people, maybe it is. Maybe she knew.

Maybe they all did. He pulls Tony close, kisses him again, and says, “Let’s go.” Then they hop into the car and drive, and when Tony twines their fingers together over the gear shift, well. Bruce doesn’t know if he’s ever been so content in his life.


End file.
